


Growth of a Child

by midnightdiddle (gooseberry)



Series: Sons of the Empire [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: Archadian Empire, Fratricide, Gen, Illegitimacy, Inheritance, Royalty, Solidor Family Feels, attempted infanticide, coup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-03-27
Updated: 2007-03-27
Packaged: 2019-01-31 04:38:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12674586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gooseberry/pseuds/midnightdiddle
Summary: "His name," Vayne said, sitting on the very edge of the chaise, "is Larsa."Isont was standing halfway across the room, fingertips resting on a table.  Teilo was sprawled in a chair across from Vayne, and he was tapping his cane against the floor, face furious.  Vayne licked his lips, glanced back towards Isont."Father said--""He's not my brother," Teilo interrupted, and his voice sounded rough."Teilo," Isont said, and Vayne stared at the floor."A mistress's son is not my brother.  It's an insult to Mother, and to us, and--"--Three's a crowd, but four is something else all together.  When there are four Solidor sons, Archadia becomes an empire too small.Sequel to 'No One's Kit'. It's a bunch more House Solidor feels, brothers being walking disasters together, and so on and so forth. Yay empires.Pre-game, spoilers for House Solidor.





	Growth of a Child

"His name," Vayne said, sitting on the very edge of the chaise, "is Larsa."

Isont was standing halfway across the room, fingertips resting on a table. Teilo was sprawled in a chair across from Vayne, and he was tapping his cane against the floor, face furious. Vayne licked his lips, glanced back towards Isont.

"Father said--"

"He's not my brother," Teilo interrupted, and his voice sounded rough.

"Teilo," Isont said, and Vayne stared at the floor.

"A mistress's son is not my brother. It's an insult to Mother, and to us, and--"

"Father," Vayne started again, straightening the seams of his jacket, "said that Larsa--"

"That _fool_ of an emperor can say whatever he likes," Teilo spat, and there was a clink of china touching wood.

"Watch," Isont said, "your tongue, before someone feels the need to cut it out."

"And would you?" Teilo's cane clacked against the floor, and he lurched up, catching himself on the chair arm. Vayne stared at Teilo's feet, biting his tongue.

"Would you cut out my tongue, Isont?" Teilo asked, and Vayne watched Isont's shoes move closer, then further away.

"I would," Isont said, and the teacup was held to his lips, "if I thought it would save my foolish little brothers."

"Father said," Vayne said, and--

"Fool of an old man," Teilo cursed, and --

"Watch your words, they are poison," Isont cautioned, and--

Somewhere, a baby cried.

x

The Emperor Gramis presented his fourth son, Larsa Ferrinas Solidor, in the late fall to a court of full honors. Isont stood close to Teilo, sharp-eyed and fast-tongued, and Vayne stood close to their mother, where his mother whispered into his ear.

"My son," their father said, and Vayne's mother touched his shoulder with quick fingertips.

"That he might gain the beauty of his mother, and the strength of his father," Isont said, wine-glass glinting red cut-crystal.

"That he might live the life he deserves," Teilo said, and his mouth was turned down, eyes glancing away from the emperor.

"That my brothers might live and love Archadia as my father," Vayne said, and his mother curled her arm around his, her lips pressing against his hair.

The mistress curtseyed, dark hair spilling across her shoulders, and Larsa was held out to the Senate. Vayne watched Gramis smile, and listened to his brothers argued, and felt his mother shiver.

x

"The child," Teilo said one night, tearing his bread to pieces, "must be put out of the palace."

"And what," Isont asked, sitting in the chair closest to Teilo, "do you suggest? Our father is fond of him, and you would be hard-press to find insult with an infant."

"His blood is insult enough." Teilo flicked a piece of the bread at Isont, scowling. "If I'd known Solidor blood was such a high price, I'd have sold mine to a higher bidder than our own father."

"If our brother's blood is an insult," Vayne asked, dropping his gloves upon the table, "then what would you say about your own children? You've sold your own blood to the kitchen maids for little more than a wink and a smile."

"See here, Vayne grows a tongue," Teilo said, flicking a new piece of bread at Vayne. "I have no wife, Little Brother, nor heirs. My dalliances are of insult to none. Father has insulted Mother and ourselves with his common whore. I would want for the child to be put out, to another palace."

"Not a common whore," Isont said idly. "She is a daughter of House Bunansa. That Father should find Larsa amusing is of little concern. He will coddle the child, and keep him from harm, and from power. Our positions are safe, and our lives with them, if we take care to lock our doors, and our tongues."

"Then you," Teilo asked, "care not?"

"I care little, save for my brothers," Isont said, and when Isont smiled at them, eyes a little sad, Vayne tried to smile back.

x

Teilo left the palace in early spring, a wink to Vayne and a kiss to Mother and a touch of hands to Isont, and the palace watched him leave with empty windows. Isont took more often to the Senate, long robes scattering dust on the floors, and Vayne took to the training fields, where he sparred with judge and Judge alike. Bergan slipped back into his life, a shadow more often next to Vayne's shoulder than not, and Vayne watched as Drace slipped behind Isont as well, quiet and methodical.

"How goes his training?" Isont asked once, standing at the edge of the training yard. Vayne's sword clattered across the stones, striking sparks, and Drace's sword was held to Vayne's neck.

"He learns," Drace said, voice muffled through the helm. "His strength grows, and his skills with it. He would be a worthy rival of his elder brothers, given a few more years."

"A worthy feat due to the training of our Judges, no doubt," Isont said, and his mouth was thin. "See that he takes care. Our mother would be most distraught, should something happen to her youngest son."

"My Lord," Drace said with a bow, and her sword flicked past Vayne's shoulder.

"He shall sit up soon," Vayne's mother said, her skirts sweeping through the doorway. Vayne slipped his hand over hers, and her hair brushed his shoulder. "He shall learn to walk, and he shall learn to talk."

"Father shall be glad," Vayne said dutifully, and he helped her into a chair, his gloves bright against her dark skirts.

"He shall. His mistress as well." His mother opened her fan, gold tassels spinning slowly. "Their son will be writ as a fourth son, and fourth heir, and I shall wonder when my own sons became of so little worth."

"And," Vayne asked, sitting upon the stool at her feet, "shall my mother be of little worth?"

"I care little of worth," she said, and the gold tassels slowed. "My sons are young, I fear, and they see worth as something of a greater importance."

"And you would ask?" Vayne leaned against the arm of his mother's chair, and she rested a thin hand upon his head.

"I would ask that you would put yourself before the others. Perhaps, at the end of this, I will be fortunate to see one son live."

x

Teilo's letters were short, and infrequent. Vayne handed them to Isont, one after another, and Isont burned them in the fireplace as Vayne held back Isont's trailing sleeves.

_The army grows restless, Brothers._

The push for the borders grows.

Does the child grow? Send Mother my best wishes, and tell her to expect me by the new spring.

I would ask Isont if our blood means much. Would you still cut out my tongue, Brother?

I have done foolish things. Look for Vayne, and care for Mother.

I would have sold my blood for a higher price than our father bought it. My men grow restless, and I with them.

Archadia grows old on our father's breath, and my patience tires.

I return. Look for my coming.

x

Isont opened Vayne's door one night, sword in hand and armor donned. Vayne stood in the doorway, jacket half pulled on, and candle wax fell to his wrist.

"Teilo," Isont said, "has done something foolish. Lock your door, and allow none to enter."

"Teilo," Vayne began, and Isont's hand caught Vayne's hair, pulling Vayne's head forward.

"Lock your door," Isont said again, and his kiss was cold on Vayne's forehead. "I shall come for you in the morning."

Isont left, followed by scores of judges, and Vayne locked his door. The candle melted by the moonset, and the screams quieted by dawn.

In the morning, Isont never came.

x

"I have lost my sons," Gramis said, "for the sake of my son." He looked tired, pale, and Vayne looked away towards the window, clasping his hands behind his back.

"Father," Vayne began, "I would enquire of the state of my brothers."

"Your elder," Gramis asked with a sound like a sigh, "or your younger?"

"I would enquire for all three," Vayne said, and he could feel his palms sweat cold.

"Larsa lives, though his nurse and several of his judges are killed. Isont and Teilo are bound, and their men are held outside of the palace." Gramis coughed, frowned with distaste. "And here I have one son left to me, standing before me with his hands behind his back. With whom do you hold, I wonder. Carry you a knife, or flower?"

"I would stand with Archadia, and her Emperor," Vayne said, and when Gramis flicked his wrist Vayne stepped up. "What would my father ask of me?"

"I would ask," Gramis said, "that their death be quick, and that it be painless. For all their faults, they were my first sons, and I should not want their suffering."

"And then?" Vayne asked, and his stomach felt queer, like it had when Teilo had once dangled him over the balcony as he screamed and Isont scolded and Teilo laughed. "To myself, what shall my father command?"

Gramis stood, and he stepped close enough that his robes brushed against Vayne's shirt-sleeves, heavy silk against thin linen.

"A son," Gramis said, standing at Vayne's shoulder, looking towards the windows, "who shall survive me. That you shall lock your doors shall be command enough."

x

"How grows the couerl?" Teilo asked, thin iron around his wrists. Vayne slid down next to him, cold stone against his skin.

"He grows still," Vayne said. "You've a cut, above your lip." He touched Teilo's mouth, and pressed his thumb against the cut, frowning as Teilo shuddered.

"And how grows the boy?" Teilo asked, and Vayne pulled back his hand.

"He grows still," Vayne said, "and he shall be saddened to see you go."

"It is a hard lot we have cast upon you, Brother," Isont said, and he was sitting close, eyes looking past Vayne's shoulder. "We would ask your forgiveness, and your speed."

"You shall have it," Vayne said, and Isont's wrists were hot beneath his fingers.

"Teilo first then, Vayne." Isont moved closer still, breath against Vayne's collar. "I wouldn't that he see me die."

Teilo's throat was pale, and his blood was red, and his body slid back against the wall, hair curling over his eyes. Isont's fingers skittered across the floor, and Vayne's breath was ragged.

"Brothers," Isont said, and he was pulling the buttons and latches of his high collar, chains tinkling, "are things strange and powerful. That you might see to your brother as I saw to mine."

Isont's throat was easier still, and the knife slipped through, catching Isont's collar. Isont's hands caught Vayne's shirt, clutching, and Vayne swallowed bile, and kissed bloody lips.

In the morning, Isont and Teilo never came.


End file.
